


Quick on the Draw

by therighteouswriter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Anal Sex, Biting, Blood Kink, Light Angst, M/M, One Shot, PWP, Praise Kink, Rimming, Shotgunning, Spanking, Vigilantism, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 10:58:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4703546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therighteouswriter/pseuds/therighteouswriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I proofread this while distracted by the television. Lol So I apologize for any blatant mistakes. Moreover, please forgive any historical inaccuracies. This story didn't require much research or anything like that but just in case. :)</p>
    </blockquote>





	Quick on the Draw

**Author's Note:**

> I proofread this while distracted by the television. Lol So I apologize for any blatant mistakes. Moreover, please forgive any historical inaccuracies. This story didn't require much research or anything like that but just in case. :)

Several warm, salty beads of sweat rolled down Sam’s chin as he stood there, waiting patiently under the smoldering hot Kansas sun. Slowly, they dripped off his freshly shaved skin and onto his flannel shirt, adding moisture to the already damp material. Absentmindedly, he lifted up the black cowboy hat he was wearing, wiping his forehead with the back of his forearm before repositioning it atop his head. Sun so bright he was forced to squint as he surveyed the scene before him.

 

In front of him on the main street, two men stood facing each other exactly fifteen paces apart; both taking care to show off the guns holstered at their hips. Glancing upward, Sam realized by the sun’s position in the sky that it was almost noon, and he instinctively took a few step to his right so that he was standing behind the hitching post that set up in front of **Bobby’s Saloon**. The old piece of wood wouldn’t do him much good if a stray bullet were to head his way, but it gave him comfort knowing there was at least some sort of barrier in front of him in case shit got outta hand. Of course, logic said he shouldn’t have even been anywhere near this gun fight in the first place, but Sam couldn’t very well walk away when his big brother’s life was on the line.

 

Truthfully, he had no desire to be anywhere else. Sam was ashamed to admit it, but there was a part of him, a dark, twisted part, that enjoyed watching his brother duel. And an even more disturbed part of him that got off on watching his brother’s bullets find there mark. Not that he could help it, Dean’s technique was a thing of beauty, and there wasn’t a man in Kansas quicker on the draw than his big brother.

 

Sam knew his infatuation with Dean went deeper than it should’ve though. Not just in regards to his skill with a gun, but the love and desire he felt for him as well. He’d known ever since he was a boy. He could feel it in his bones; a deep, bittersweet ache that rippled through his heart every time he laid eyes on his brother. And worst of all, their father had known of Sam’s depravity too, regarded his youngest son with contempt because of it.

 

John’s knowledge of Sam’s feelings for Dean was the reason their old man had urge Dean to run off and join the war. The reason he’d busted his ass **that** much harder to scrape together enough money to send Sam to college. He wanted Dean as far away from Sam as humanly possible; would have rather seen his eldest son killed in battle than fall victim to Sam’s corruption, to let Sam lure him in with his poisonous touch.

 

And for a long while, John Winchester had gotten his way. Dean had served four hard years, full of blood and carnage, fighting for the Union; and Sam had went away to college to get a law degree.

 

However, as it turned out, no matter of distance or obstacles put between the two brothers could keep them apart. John passed, the war ended, and Sam and Dean found their way back to each other. The two of them grown, but just as inseparable as when they were kids.

 

“Any last words outta that smart mouth, Winchester?”

 

Sam was jarred from his thoughts by a gruff voice; Dean’s opponent unable to resist shooting his brother a snide comment, rolling his fingers ominously over the top of his gun as he waited for the clock to strike noon. Unsurprisingly, however, his taunt didn’t do much in the way of fazing Dean, the green eyed man remaining silent, lips curling at the end in a cocky little smirk.

 

It was subtle, barely even noticeable in the blaring shimmer of the sun, but that smirk, if it didn’t get under his opponent’s skin, certainly got under Sam’s. Which was why he failed to hear the clock above City Hall chime, the scene before him nothing but a blur as both men reached for their weapons.

 

In less than a heartbeat, the duel was over, Sam’s eyes finally able to focus just in time to register a thin line of smoke billowing up from the barrel of his brother’s gun.

 

“Good riddance, ya slimy son of a bitch,” Dean growled when the dust had settled, unable to resist the urge to show off as he twirled his gun before securing it by his side once more.

 

Mesmerized, Sam could only stand there dumbly, half-hard in his jeans as his brother sauntered over to him, toothy grin lighting up his freckled face; skin slick with sweat, and golden brown from baking in the hot sun.

 

“…I’ll be damned…I don’t think that poor ol’ boy even had time to draw his weapon,” Sam breathed out, eyes studying his brother’s opponent who lay motionless on the dirt, blood seeping out of his wound, painting the ground crimson.

 

“Amateur. When these wannabes gonna learn ain’t nobody can out shoot your big brother?” Dean asked with a cocky smile, brushing his knuckles across Sam’s chin in a mock punch.

 

“…Dean, we should get on outta here.”

 

Dean’s smile faded when Sam wrapped his right hand around his bicep, preventing him from heading in the direction of the saloon. By that time, a small crowd of people had gathered around the body, onlookers eyeing Dean and gossiping in hushed tones; others peeking their heads out of shops, trying to see what all the commotion was about.

 

“What? Why? C’mon, Sammy, don’t you wanna celebrate my victory?”

 

“Course I do…but I don’t think folks ‘round here are gonna take too kindly to that.”

 

Tugging on his brother’s arm, Sam hastily pulled Dean toward their horses, overly aware that the crowd watching them was inching closer by the minute. He didn’t want to take the chance of someone calling the Sheriff, or worse, for a friend or family member of the dead man to show up and seek his revenge without ceremony.

 

“Why the hell not? Shootin’ was justified. We caught him cheatin’ at the card table plain as day.”

 

“Justified or not, you’ve dropped four men in the last month. The fact that they were all cheats and thieves aside, sooner or later the Sheriff ain’t gonna be able to turn the other cheek, or even want to.”

 

“Well, then I guess he’ll have to be the fifth unfortunate soul I send to the undertaker,” Dean teased, rolling his eyes when Sam gave him a fierce reprimanding look.

 

“Just get on that damn nuisance you call and horse and let’s go home,” Sam ordered as Dean and he started to untie their steeds from the hitching post.

 

“Don’t listen to him, Baby, he’s just a killjoy,” Dean cooed, petting his large black mare, the horse whinnying at him in return, her shiny coat glistening in the sunlight.

 

Shaking his head, Sam finished untying his Mustang, giving him a quick scratch behind the ears before placing his right foot in the stirrup closed to him and swinging his left leg over the horse’s back. Dean followed suit, giving his brother a playful wink before turning his mare away from the post, beckoning for Sam to follow as he led them out of town; back to their little cabin hidden in the woods.

 

 

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

 

 

Later on, after they’d washed up and had supper, Sam excused himself to the back porch for some fresh air. Of course, it hadn’t been easy to get away from Dean without receiving the third degree, but somehow he’d managed. Actually, Sam had kind of scared himself with how well he’d been able to put up a façade. Giving his brother the best smile he could must when Dean asked if everything was okay and casually feeding him some bullshit lie about wanting to watch the sunset.

 

Taking a seat in one of the two rocking chairs positioned near the railing that boxed in the porch, Sam settled down, letting out a deep sigh. He’d been on edge since Dean’s duel, not really allowing himself to relax until that moment. Although, if his brother were truly in trouble with the law, he figured they would’ve known by then. The Sheriff wasn’t really Sam’s main concern though. Sure, he’d be a pain in the ass to deal with if he decided that Dean’s vigilante justice was gettin’ outta hand, but they would manage. They were Winchesters, after all. Adapting and surviving were two of their specialties.

 

No, Sam was on the verge of jumping out of his skin because his brother’s latest duel had opened his eyes to just how deeply perverted his intentions were toward Dean. He’d known he was in love with his brother for as long as he could remember, yes, but his desire to have Dean physically had never been this strong before. And it scared the holy Hell out of Sam.

 

Leaning back in his chair, Sam let out another deep breath, trying to steady himself. God. He needed to get his emotions in check before he lost it completely. It wasn’t like Dean knew, or even had a suspicion about his impure inclinations. There was really no need to fret at this point, and if he could just calm himself down, he was sure he could get a handle on his feelings. He just needed time.

 

Trying to redirect his thoughts, Sam focused on his surroundings, taking in the beauty of it all. The air around him was calm and warm; the sound of katydids singing off in the distance filling his ears. He could see a group of fireflies floating around near the large pine trees at the edge of their property, their lights twinkling in the growing darkness like stars in the night sky. It was peaceful being out here, away from the hustle and bustle of the town.

 

Sam didn’t hesitate to soak it all in, breathing easy, and settling his nerves. And he was well on his way to dozing off, exhausted from all the stressed he’d put himself under, when the creak of a floor board startled him up right. Instinctively, he reached for his gun, not even getting his hand down to his waist before the barrel of Dean’s pistol was against his cheek, hard and cool.

 

Looking up, Sam met Dean’s eyes, bright green irises shining with mischief; his brother making a tsk noise as a sly smile spread across his plush pink lips.

 

“Too slow, little brother,” Dean drawled, not taking his gun off Sam.

 

And Sam hated how much he **didn’t** hate the way the steel felt against his skin, Dean’s condescending tone making his cock twitch in spite of his pride.

 

“Either shoot me or holster it, Dean,” Sam commanded, trying his best to sound stern even though he was nothing but a puddle of goo on the inside.

 

“Ya know I’d never shoot you, baby boy.”

 

Sam mentally cursed his brother’s use of the nickname. Thinking back to when he was a child and Dean used to call him that all the time; the words having the same hypnotic effect on Sam even back then.

 

A shiver snaked its way up his spin when Dean gently drug the barrel of his gun across his cheek, the older man flashing him a toothy grin before slipping his firearm back in its holster.

 

“What cha doin’ sleepin’ out here, anyway?” Dean mused as he reached up to grab the freshly rolled cigarette he’d tucked behind his right ear.

 

Rising an eyebrow at Sam, Dean slipped the slender smoke between his sinfully beautiful lips, before digging into the front pocket of his jeans to produce a matchbook.

 

“…Dunno…Just been wound up all day, guess somethin’ bout being home helps me clear my head.”

 

“Yeah, I get that,” the older man admitted as he detached a match from the group, striking it across the bottom of the book. He let the flame burn for a moment, bright yellow, dancing in his hand, before lighting his cigarette; extinguishing the match when he was done and tossing it off the porch into the grass. “…there’s somethin’ else goin’ on though. I can see it in your eyes,” he said thoughtfully before taking a long, slow drag off his smoke.

 

“M’just worried about ya s’all.”

 

It wasn’t exactly a lie. Sam really was worried about Dean, not only in regard to the law, but also himself. Sam was sick, he knew that, but he didn’t want his brother worrying about him. His sexual depravity was his sin; therefore it was his burden to bear. The last thing he wanted was for Dean to learn his secret. Cause he knew it wouldn’t be long before Dean was filling his head with nonsense like he always did. Trying to be a good big brother, telling Sam he wasn’t strange, or different, or even a freak when he knew better; when he knew what it felt like to lust after his own brother. Felt that desire like a fierce tidal wave, washing over him, suffocating Sam until he couldn’t think about anything else.

 

“Y’know, Sammy, when we was younger, you trusted me to take care of ya. You never questioned my decisions, and ya always had my back…Now, the only reason I can think that’s somehow changed is that ya don’t agree with the way I’ve been puttin’ these lowlifes down. Is that it, kid? Is it me killin’ that’s got you so riled up?”

 

The passion in Dean’s voice sent Sam reeling, and he found himself looking up to meet his brother’s heated gaze. He didn’t just **hear** Dean’s words, he _felt_ them, like a punch to the gut. And it was in that moment he realized that Dean thought Sam doubted his big brother’s actions, his morals, not himself. He thought that Sam’s nerves were frazzled, that he was about to jump out of his skin, because Dean didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger, even though they both knew that sometimes he should.

 

But that wasn’t it at all though, and Sam wished to God he could explain that to his brother. Wished he could tell Dean that it was actually the exact opposite, that he was so fucked in the head that he enjoyed watching his brother pump stealin’, cheatin’, scum full of lead. Even if he didn’t get off on the way his brother killed with ease, he could never be “riled up” about it as Dean put it cause that was just how Dean was. Who he was. Ever since they were little, Sam had known his brother possessed the mental capacity to kill, whether it be in the name of justice, his family, or his country. And the fact had never fazed Sam, because he knew just as well as he knew that the sun rose in the East and set in the West that Dean would never draw on someone who didn’t have it coming, and that his brother would die before he purposely spilt innocent blood.

 

“No, of course not, Dean. I still agree with, and support all of your decisions. I know you’ll take care of me, and I **never** stopped having your back. You could kill a hundred criminals for all I care.”

 

Narrowing his eyes, Dean studied Sam’s face thoughtfully, as if he were trying to detect even the slightest glimmer of doubt. Holding his brother’s gaze, Sam sat up in his chair, chin held high, broad chest puffed out like a challenged; daring Dean to argue.

 

“Alright, little brother, I believe ya…but shit, you gotta relax. If the Sheriff was gonna come lookin’ for justice he woulda by now,” Dean sighed, reaching forward to run his fingers through Sam’s hair.

 

“…Yeah…you’re right, m’sorry. I just…can’t lose you,” Sam admitted quietly, heart fluttering at the feeling of Dean’s fingertips brushing against his scalp, making their way through his sweaty, tousled locks.

 

“Ain’t no way in Hell I’mma let that happen, Sammy.”

 

Sam’s heart felt so full that he thought it might burst. Managing a little nod, he tried not to look disappointed when Dean dropped his hand to the side and stepped back; giving Sam a sly little smirk before taking another drag off his cigarette.

 

“Ya want some?” Dean asked suddenly, exhaling a puff of smoke out through his mouth as he pinched the end of his cigarette with his thumb and index finger, offering it to Sam. “Might help ya relax.”

 

“…C’ain’t handle smoke for shit, and ya know it,” Sam grumbled, butterflies swarming around in his stomach when Dean’s face lit up with a shit eating grin. Smile so wide he had creases at the corner of his eyes.

 

“Stop bitchin’ and get on your feet.”

 

Sam let out a frustrated huff but obeyed, standing up so he was directly in front of Dean, close enough to feel the heat from his brother’s body but still not making actual contact. He could feel his breath quicken as he looked down into Dean’s eyes, anticipation bubbling up in his chest, making his skin hot and electric. Dean seemed to notice the affect he was having on Sam because all of a sudden his gaze turned soft, almost adoring as he reached up with his left hand, curling his long, callused fingers around the back of the younger man’s neck.

 

“…Dean?” Sam asked weakly, cock starting to harden in response to his brother’s touch; all his senses on overdrive as Dean moved a little closer, grip like a vice.

 

“Open your mouth, Sammy.”

 

Dean’s voice was low, raw, a precise reflection of everything Sam was feeling. Struggling to comply, Sam forced his lips to part slowly, eyes wide and curious as he watched Dean lift his cigarette up to his lips, inhaling deeply. And once his mouth was full, Dean rocked upward on his toes, bringing his mouth _dangerously_ close to Sam’s, lips ghosting his, and exhaled. Smoke glided through the ‘O’ shape of Dean’s lips, warm and smooth, weaving its way into Sam’s mouth. Letting out a pitiful noise that sounded like a cross between a whine and a moan, Sam did his best to catch as much of the smoke as possible, sealing his lips around it, the thick, wavy vapor dancing against his tongue.

 

Suddenly Sam felt punch drunk. Skin tingling and heated as he carefully blew the smoke out of his mouth. Dean’s eyes were on him the entire time, dark and hungry, fingernails digging into his flesh, causing his cock to twitch, pre-cum oozing from the slit, soaking his jeans.

 

His brother was pressed against him firmly now, the familiar scent of whiskey, sweat, and aftershave that was so very Dean filling his nose, and spreading through his veins like wildfire.

 

“Can I…” Sam grated out, hands coming up to grip Dean’s hips, cotton material of his shirt smooth and warm under the younger man’s touch. “Can I have a little more?”

 

“You can have as much as ya want, baby boy,” Dean purred, and it was all Sam could do not to come on the spot, watching intently as his brother took another long drag off his cigarette before leaning toward him, mouth full of smoke.

 

This time, however, Sam couldn’t be bothered to keep his impulses in check, surging forward to meet his brother half way, lips fusing together with Dean’s. Taken off guard, the older man let out a surprised gasp, smoke rushing from his mouth into Sam’s. Without thinking, Sam slipped his tongue past his brother’s soft, pink lips, heart jackhammering in his chest when he felt Dean, after a short pause, kissing back. His brother’s mouth was scorching hot against his, wet and demanding, Dean’s grip on his neck so tight it sent a jolt of pain down Sam’s back, the sensation settling between his tense shoulder blades. The feeling wasn’t entirely unpleasant though, much to Sam’s surprise, the thought both sparking his curiosity and fueling his shame.

 

“Fuck Sammy,” Dean whispered, taking Sam’s swollen bottom lip between his teeth, biting down hard enough to draw blood.

 

Sam moaned, blindly clawing at Dean’s hips, the metallic, bitter taste of his blood flooding his mouth. He could feel the substance, warm and thick, Dean swirling his own tongue around inside his mouth; grinding his body against the younger man. His brother was like a ravenous animal who’d just been thrown a steak, licking and sucking at the wound he’d made.

 

Groaning into Dean’s mouth, it was as if a light bulb had flicked on over Sam’s head; skin hot and prickly, like a thousand needles were poking him all at once when he realized his brother was _purposely_ trying to taste his blood. The very thought sent a rush of pleasure through his body; Dean’s soft, wet lips on the bite mark making his cock jump, a large, clear bead of pre-cum welling up at the tip. It felt amazing and exciting, and at the same time so utterly wrong. Sam knew one thing for sure though. He was definitely going to Hell and he couldn’t give a shit less. The sweet, intoxicating taste of his brother’s lips was well worth an eternity of hellfire.

 

“Dean, _please_.”

 

Desire burned white hot in the pit of Sam’s stomach, breath coming out sharp and ragged as he watched Dean pull away from him slowly. His big brother looked completely wrecked, but somehow still managed to shoot Sam a playful smile; causally dropping the half smoked cigarette in his hand onto the deck in order to extinguish under with his boot. And once both his hands were free, Dean yanked Sam forward by the arms, maneuvering him so that he was standing behind the younger man, Sam’s palms flat against the railing of the porch.

 

The sudden repositioning caught Sam off guard, and he couldn’t stop himself from letting out a strangled moan when he felt the hard outline of his brother’s cock pressed between his ass cheeks, Dean’s breath hot against his neck.

 

“This what ya been hidin’ from me, Sam? Why ya been so jittery around me?”

 

For a spilt second, Sam thought about lying. He’d kept his lust for Dean under wraps for so long, it was difficult for him to admit the truth out loud. He had to though. Sam couldn’t very well have Dean’s back, or ride by his side when his big brother could clearly see that he was withholding information from him. Information that affected their relationship deeply. Information that kept them from being **them**.

 

“…Y-yeah…m’sorry Dean…didn’t know how to tell ya. I was ashamed.”

 

Sam couldn’t believe how good it felt to finally tell Dean his secret. In that moment, it was as though years of worry and self-hatred had been momentarily erased from his memory bank, and Sam felt free. Like a new man. However, his confessional bliss only lasted a short while, and he was back to the nervous wreck he had been when he notice that Dean had gone completely still behind him; grip so tight on Sam’s hips he could practically feel bruises forming under Dean’s fingers.

 

Taking a steadying breath, Sam dared to look over his shoulder at Dean. There was just enough sunlight left in the sky for him to make out his brother’s handsome face, freckled and tan, sporting a thoughtful expression. Opening his mouth, Sam struggled to think of something intelligent to say when he was startled by the feeling of his brother’s hands sliding across his stomach, palms flat against his abs, making their way toward his groin.

 

“So…” Dean whispered, lips suddenly against the back of Sam’s neck, creating goosebumps. “The way you was lookin’ at me earlier, after the duel? You wasn’t scared or disgusted with me? That look in your eyes…it was cause ya wanted me and you was ashamed?”

 

“You thought I was scared of ya? Jesus, Dean. I ain’t never been scared of ya in my life. And I wasn’t disgusted with ya neither. With myself, yeah, but not you. I-I was so turned on. Whenever you got your hand on a gun, fuck, it goes straight to my dick.”

 

“Oh God, _Sammy_.”

 

Sam was completely unprepared when Dean sank his teeth into the nape of his neck, body going rigid as he screamed his brother’s name. He felt a burst of pain shoot through the large vein in his throat, Dean’s saliva causing the open bite mark to sting and ache. Yet, somewhere on the edge of his senses, Sam can also feel a rush of pleasure. And when Dean’s tongue slid over the wound, his blood turned molten; the younger man practically bursting into flames.

 

“Dean,” Sam whined, cock so hard he could barely function. “Please, I need…”

 

Much to his relief, Sam didn’t have to wait long before Dean was undoing his belt, strong hands making quick work of the buckle before popping open the button on his jeans. He almost forgot to breathe when he felt Dean pull down his zipper, roughly yanking the denim across his thighs. Sam’s swollen cock springing free from the material and bouncing up against his stomach.

 

“Ya shouldn’t keep secrets from me, little brother,” Dean chastised as he pushed Sam’s jeans down to his ankles.

 

“I know…m’sorry, Dean, _please_.”

 

Sam was unable to hold back a surprised gasp when he felt Dean’s palm, warm and rough, connect with his bare ass. He dug his fingers into the porch railing, knuckles chalk white, skin stinging and flushed where his brother had smacked him. Without a word, Dean repeated the action several times, swats growing harder and sharper until Sam was a babbling mess, hips thrusting forward helplessly to no avail.

 

“Don’t you dare keep anymore secrets from me, boy, ya understand?” Dean growled against the shell of Sam’s right ear, gripping his abused ass cheek in his hand; fingers pinching and kneading the heated flesh. “Or next time I’ll tan your hide and make sure you don’t get to come.”

 

“I won’t, promise, Dean, I promise!” Sam mewled, shuddering when he suddenly felt his brother’s hand wrapped around his cock, stroking him agonizingly slow.

 

Sam used the railing for leverage, rolling his hips as he fucked into Dean’s hand, pleasure building up in the pit of his stomach like a volcano on the verge of erupting.

 

“Good boy.”

 

Fuck, that was better than sex itself. Sam couldn’t explain why, but he craved praise from Dean. Lived to hear that tone of pride in his big brother’s voice, like Sam was the only one who could do right by him. The only one who could do **exactly** what Dean wanted.

 

“Oh fuck, feels so good, big brother.”

 

Sam was wrecked. Heart pounding, eyes shut tight, his orgasm so close he could feel it thrumming throughout his body, like reverb vibrating off a brick wall.

 

And then suddenly, Dean’s hand was no longer on his cock.

 

“Dean, what the-” Sam started to say, completely outraged until he was cut off by the feeling of his brother spreading his ass cheeks wide, Dean now kneeling behind him; hot breath dancing over Sam’s soft, puckered hole.

 

“Be patient, Sammy,” Dean chuckled, right before he licked up the length of Sam’s entrance, causing the younger man to moan and buck his hips. “Wouldn’t you rather come with my dick inside this pecky little ass of yours?” he wondered as he gave Sam’s ass cheek a playful slap.

 

“Yes, oh fuck, yes, yes!”

 

Sam could practically **hear** Dean smiling as the older man returned to his task, long, teasing swirls of his tongue over his brother’s hole. And when Dean dipped his tongue inside Sam, tip wiggling hot and wet along the tight ring of muscle, he nearly lost his mind, so desperate to come he would have done anything.

 

“You love this, don’t ya, little brother?” Dean asked, a hint of amused on the edge of his voice as he licked up the crack of Sam’s ass, reaching up between his legs with his right hand to massage his tight, aching balls.

 

“Fuck, Dean, please…I can’t….I need you.”

 

He could feel Dean’s lips pressed against the small of his back, soft and slick with spit as he trailed kisses up his spine.

 

“I know, Sammy, I know. I’m gonna give you what you need, promise.”

 

Dean leaned back abruptly; the absence of his skin against Sam’s making the younger man ache in a way he didn’t think was possible. He couldn’t see what his brother was doing, but he could hear him making obscene noises, sloppy and wet, the sound causing Sam’s cock throb even harder.

 

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Sam gritted out, mind nearly short-circuiting when Dean slipped his spit slick index finger inside him without warning.

 

Bowing his back, the younger man tried his best not to shout out in pleasure as his brother massaged his prostate, circling the tip of his finger against the tiny buddle of nerves.

 

“Damn, baby boy, look at you. So fucking tight. God, you’re so desperate for it, aren’t you? Such a whore for my cock.”

 

Dean’s filthy comment, along with the insertion of a second finger into Sam, made him whimper in need. Instinctively, he rocked back onto his brother’s fingers, skin flushed, body trembling.

 

Truthfully, Sam was in anguish. Stretched impossibly wide, cock throbbing profusely, not being given the attention it deserved. Yet, at the same time, he couldn’t remember ever feeling this fucking good before. He wanted Dean in ways he couldn’t even put into words, his brother’s fingers inside him nowhere near enough to satisfy that kind of craving. That kind of unadulterated desire.

 

“Dean, I’m begging ya, please fuck me,” Sam panted, pushing his ass back a little further when a third spit slick finger breached his hole; Dean biting out a sting of curses as he continued to stretch his brother.

 

“Sammy, don’t stop,” Dean grated out, voice rough and low, almost desperate. “Fuck yourself on my fingers.”

 

Sam let out a little whine of protest, but did as he was told. Rocking forward slightly, he let Dean’s fingers slide to the edge of his hole before sinking back down; jolts of pleasure hitting him like lightning every time Dean’s fingers hit his prostate.

 

Rock hard, struggling to balance, Sam bounced his ass on his brother’s fingers, chanting Dean’s name desperately. He couldn’t deny that it felt amazing, but it wasn’t what Sam wanted. He wanted Dean inside him, more than anything.

 

“Please, Dean, it’s not enough, need your cock,” Sam begged as he swiveled his hips, a moan ripping from his throat as though it had been punched out of him.

 

“Jesus, little brother, okay, you can have it. Fuck, you can have it, baby.”

 

Dean took care to remove his fingers, but Sam couldn’t help but whimper at the loss. Nor could he bother to pull together the strength to look behind him, even when he heard his brother moving around. Standing up and working frantically to get his pants undone. Sure, he wanted to see Dean naked, but he was too wound up, too turned on for that now. At that point, if Dean even looked at him funny he’d probably blow his wad.

 

“Fuck, Dean, please stop teasing.”

 

Sam shuddered when he felt Dean pressed against him once more, his brother now naked from the waist down like him. Dean’s lips were hovering over the bite mark on the back of his neck, tongue periodically sliding across the outline of his teeth, blood and sweat pooling at the tip. Reaching between them, Sam could feel Dean line himself up with his entrance, head of his slick, swollen cock pressed firmly against it.

 

“Tell me one more time, little brother, I wanna hear ya say it.”

 

“ _Please_ Dean. I want your cock, fuck me, please.”

 

They both moaned, the sound filthy and wanton, when Dean sank into Sam, cock pushing past tight muscle inch by inch.

 

“Easy, Sammy, just relax,” Dean cooed as he bottomed out, hips snug against Sam’s ass; chest warm and slippery with sweat pressed to his back.

 

Dean wrapped his left arm around Sam’s waist, the younger man moaning and shaking as his brother allowed him to adjust. He could feel Dean peppering soft, innocent kisses down the side of his neck; thighs trembling, heart threatening to beat out of his chest.

 

“Oh, fuck, Dean…never thought…God, love the way you feel inside me,” Sam mumbled incoherently, clenching around his brother; the action causing Dean to sink his teeth into his neck right above his pulse.

 

Sam cried out, stomach muscles flexing, pain fading into undeniable pleasure as Dean began to lap at the new bite mark. His neck was now covered in dark blue bruises, the outline of Dean’s teeth visible on his pale, smooth flesh.

 

“Goddamn it, Sammy, you drive me wild, ya know that?”

 

Withdrawing from Sam, Dean pulled back until just the tip of his cock was inside him before slamming back in with enough force to make his brother scream. Sam braced himself, fingers almost numb from how tight he’d been holding onto the railing as Dean worked up a steady pace, cock drilling his prostate with every thrust of his hips.

 

Dean’s rhyme was maddening. Pounding into Sam so hard his whole body lurch forward, his tired, trembling arms the only thing keeping him in place.

 

“Jesus, you’re fucking gorgeous like this, little brother,” Dean whispered into Sam’s ear, right hand wrapping around his painfully hard cock.

 

“Please, Dean, make me come. Wanna come on your huge beautiful cock.”

 

Sam screamed Dean’s name at the top of his lungs when he felt his brother’s teeth sink into his right shoulder; the older man jerking his cock fast and rough as Sam came so hard his vision when fuzzy.

 

“Fucking perfect, Sammy.”

 

Dean had stopped moving, still hard inside Sam as his little brother leaned back against him, completely spent. He flexed his fingers instinctively, trying to get his blood flowing again, too blissed out from his orgasm to even have a coherent thought.

 

He was, however, responsive enough to notice Dean pulling out of him, disappointment burning deep in his chest as he struggled to look over his shoulder at his brother.

 

“Hey now, don’t give me that damn look,” Dean grumbled, gently forcing Sam down to the floor in order to lay him on his back; the younger man so sex dazed he didn’t even struggle. “Wanna finish like this,” his big brother explained as he pulled Sam’s boots off, jeans joining them in a pile next to his rocking chair.

 

Sam could only nod, at a completely loss of all his motor skills. He just lay there compliantly as Dean wrapped his legs around his waist, let out a low, pitiful little whine when his brother pushed back into him; his pace slower this time, with far more finesse.

 

“ _Oh_ , Dean,” Sam moaned, arms coming up to wrap around his brother’s neck, feeling his brother’s stomach muscles flex against him each time he circled his hips, driving deep into Sam.

 

“Ya have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Dean groaned into the crook of Sam’s neck. “No idea how long I’ve wanted you.”

 

“Same, big brother, but you have me now. I’m yours.”

 

The words had barely left Sam’s mouth when he felt Dean’s whole body tense above him, teeth sinking into his skin once more as his brother came warm and thick inside Sam.

 

“Holy fuck,” Sam groaned, neck throbbing, pain and pleasure swirling through his body like a bittersweet haze.

 

Letting out an affirmative grunt, Dean carefully pulled out of Sam before collapsing on top of him; face pressed against the hollow of his throat as they both lay there, little aftershocks of pleasure tingling throughout their bodies.

 

“…Ya had me worried, ya know?” Dean mumbled against Sam’s skin after a few minutes, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them.

 

“M’real sorry, Dean…never thought in a million years you’d get to thinkin’ like that.”

 

Sam rubbed Dean’s back soothingly, upset with himself for making his big brother doubt his loyalty to him.

 

“Ya never thought that I’d be worried bout my brother hatin’ me for bein’ a killer?”

 

“You ain’t some coldblooded psychopath who likes killin’ for fun, Dean. Those men were bad, they hurt people, stole from ‘em. The world’s a better place without ‘em.”

 

Sam’s heart fluttered when he felt Dean smirk against his skin, the older man nosing at his collarbone playfully.

 

“It also don’t hurt that me blowin’ those scumbags away made you wanna blow me,” Dean taunted, looking up at his brother mischievously.

 

Blushing from head to toe, Sam ducked his head in embarrassment; cock struggling to get hard, despite the fact that he was overstimulated and sore.

 

“Woulda done it, y’know?” Sam admitted shyly, consumed with a sick feeling of satisfaction when his brother’s breath hitched in his throat. “You shootin’ that mouthy son of a bitch had me so hot I woulda dropped to my knees right there in the middle of the street and sucked your cock.”

 

Smirking, Sam ran his fingers through Dean’s hair as the older man groaned into his chest before rocking upward to pull him into a searing hot kiss.

 

“Next time, Sammy, I’ll hold ya to that,” Dean challenged, Sam so caught up in his brother’s words he that could barely breathe.

 

Little did the brothers know, however, that while they lay there, consumed by their love for one another, a few miles away the Sheriff was gathering up a posse; determined to show the people of Lawrence that nobody but him was allowed to lay down the law. Not even a smooth talkin’, quick-handed gunslinger like Dean Winchester.


End file.
